Cole didn’t want to talk about what had happened in his bedroom over the past three years, but the truth was, I didn’t want to chat about mine, either. Talking about the way Michael had treated me, how my heart still hadn’t quite healed, wasn’t an option.
The truth was, I did trust Cole. I trusted him to behave exactly as I knew he would.
Instead of calling his bluff—I was sure it was a bluff—I gave him a tired smile. “I’ll see you at the mixer in a couple of weeks, Cole.”
I stepped past him, and this time he let me go. Tears pricked the corners of my eyes. I was sorry I’d let Cole in as far as I had. I didn’t need him being sweet and protective, yet somehow vulnerable at the same time, and trying to change the course that had kept my heart safe the past two years.
If he kept asking me out, it would get harder and harder to say no. It made me want to run away from him, not walk, and never have to face him again.
One thing had become clear tonight—Liam and I were done. I thought about breaking up with him, but if I was just a girl who slept in his bed, I could probably weasel out of that and simply stop responding to his messages.
Starting with tonight. Fatigue had settled deep in my bones. The familiar weight came partially from the loss of the adrenaline that had fueled my performance, and partially from the spent emotion over Liam and Cole. Either way, being alone in my bed appealed to me more than either boy.
At the moment.
Chapter Ten
“He said you deserve to be with a guy who makes you feel better than fine? And that you were worth the scrapes?” Emilie worked to keep her voice even, but the swoon underneath her words begged to break free. Her huge almost-black eyes filled with the kind of dopey look she got whenever we watched The Notebook or basically any cheesy shit on ABC Family.
“Yes.” I glared at her. “But we don’t like him. He’s got a stick up his Scottish ass that’s been there for like, thirteen generations or something, and he sucks in bed. Apparently.”
“Right. Yes.” Emilie snapped out of it, the dreamy clouds evaporating from her dark eyes. “But—”
“No buts.”
She rolled her eyes, reaching a toe across the space between our beds and poking me. “But, aren’t you the least bit curious about him? I mean, about why the girls are rating him so low?”
“No.”
“Ruby, you can lie to yourself if you want, but I’ve been your best friend for going on three years. I know you. Not to mention, I’ve watched the two of you stare helplessly at one another in class for half a semester while the rest of the room tries to not drown in the lust. You like him.”
“I don’t like him. I might be attracted to him, but that’s unconscious. I can’t help it.”
Emilie crossed her arms over her chest and cocked her head, fixing me with the kind of stare that made Quinn rethink whatever was about to come out of his stupid mouth. “Right. Why would you like a gorgeous guy with a hot accent and an even hotter body, who also brings you flowers and compliments your talent, thinks you’re beautiful, and turns you on like whoa? That would be crazy!”
“I’m picking up on your sarcasm.”
“Well, I should hope so, because I’m laying it on pretty thick.”
I picked at my comforter, hating to show my stupid girl insecurities, even to Em. “I can’t like him, Em. It will turn out the same as all the others. Guys at this school…they seem to like me, but then their friends or their family turn up their nose at my tacky parents, and that’s the end of it. I can’t do it again.”
She moved to my bed, sitting close enough that our hips touched, and put an arm around my shoulders. “If Liam taught you anything, though, it’s that guys in every financial bracket can be dicks who want to get away with putting in the least amount of effort. Cole Stuart has already put in more effort than Liam, and you aren’t even dating.”
“Only because he wants to convince me to filter his ratings.”
“You can believe that if you want, but I don’t think I do. In fact, I think it’s time for another infamous Ruby and Emilie investigation.”
I snorted. “You mean scheme.”
“Sure. You and I are going to find out what’s wrong with Cole Stuart, because now I want to know, too.”
“What’s Quinn going to think about more scheming?”
“Quinn loves my adorably cheeky side.”
“He loves all your sides,” I replied as sweetly as I could manage.
She grinned, her cheeks pink. “I know. I love him so much, Ruby, it’s like my insides want to expand to hold it all, but it just shoots out everywhere. I want you to have that, too, no matter how much money the guy has—you have to find him. Which means you need to stay open to the opportunities, not close them off.”
I laid my head on her shoulder. “You’re so much braver than me, Em. You’re braver than any other girl in this house. It hurts, staying open.”
“I know, Rubes. But great discoveries aren’t made by people too scared to leave home.”
I had long envied Emilie’s devotion to the idea that a life without regret was the only thing worth having. It cloaked her with a surety and a confidence that allowed her to keep going after Quinn, and to find that wonderful new land filled with a crazy compatible love.
Things worked out for her, but that didn’t mean they would work out for me. We weren’t the same.
“Yeah, but I bet the Native Americans wished Columbus had kept his ass in Italy.”
She laughed, nudging me. “Don’t be such a downer. First, let’s find out what’s wrong with Cole, then you can decide whether or not you want to adventure to the land of his pants. Deal?”
The idea intrigued me more than a little, as did spending time with Emilie concocting a scheme. “Let’s do it. We can start with Chaney, and I can dig through the ratings on the site so we can corner the other girls who’ve rated him.”
Emilie slapped my bare thigh, leaving a handprint on her way off the bed. I whacked her in the back of her head with a pillow, making her silky black strands fly in every direction. It felt nice having her here, even if it would only last the few nights Quinn was away in Istanbul.
This was technically our fall break, but neither Em or I had anywhere to go. Auditions for the school’s fall production of Annie Get Your Gun were in a month, and Emilie had somehow lost her passport, so we were both stuck at Whitman.
“I’m going to talk to Chaney. You get online.”
Emilie flounced out and I dragged my laptop off the desk. Twelve girls had rated Cole now, all ones and twos, no referrals. Only one of the names was familiar, a girl who occasionally tried out for the musicals, and all we had for the rest were e-mail addresses. I couldn’t just e-mail them, though. That would be super creepy.
The door eased open again less than three minutes later, letting me know Emilie hadn’t had any better luck downstairs.
“Chaney’s gone for fall break.”
“Yeah. I e-mailed you a list of the other girls. I only know one of them.”
“The good news is, we have a few days to figure out a plan.”
I smiled at her determination. “Want to go shopping while we think?”
“And froyo?”
“Would I take you out on the town and deny you froyo? Come on.”
The two of us changed into lightweight skirts and tank tops, slid on sandals, and giggled our way out of the DE house. The sight of Sebastian Blair, hand raised to press a buzzer, knocked the laughter out of both of us.
“What are you doing here?” Emilie snapped.
Sebastian, strangely, didn’t hold a grudge against my roommate for putting an end to his stranglehold on Quinn. Instead, he seemed to admire her for it, though the feeling wasn’t mutual.
He tried a smile, an expression that looked odd on his evil but perfectly symmetrical face. His deep brown eyes were unreadable as the fall breeze tousled his too-long dark blond hair. “I was coming to talk to Ruby, actually.”
&
nbsp; “She doesn’t want to talk to you.”
“Thanks, Em, but I can speak.” I rolled my eyes and nudged her out of the way with my elbow. “I don’t want to talk to you,” I told Sebastian.
“It’s about your website.”
“Christ, does everyone know it’s me, now?”
“Only people who’ve taken the time to find out. Your computer expert set you up with shoddy security.”
Fucking Noah. I knew I should have used an uglier computer geek. “Well, whatever. What do you want?”
“I want to talk to you about advertising.”
“What?” Emilie’s jaw dropped. “You want to advertise on Ruby’s site?”
“Were the two of you heading somewhere? Perhaps I could accompany you and we could talk on the way? I’d hate to derail your afternoon plans.”
“Whenever you start talking like that it totally creeps people out,” I told him.
His eyebrows went up. “I creep people out?”
“Um, yes. That’s not a secret.”
“We were going shopping and to get froyo. Not quite the kind of afternoon Sebastian Blair enjoys.”
Emilie walked past him, hopping down off the porch and turning back, raising her eyebrows, but his offer intrigued me.
“You can come if you want.”
The website had hopefully helped out some of my fellow Whitman Owls, but if it could line my pockets with some extra cash, too, why not?
“You’re not riding with us, though.”
“I wouldn’t presume,” Sebastian answered me smoothly, crooking a finger and summoning the Town Car idling several yards away.
***
Spending the afternoon with Sebastian proved less harrowing than anticipated. He followed Emilie and me around to three different boutiques, expounding on the different organizations that might be interested in advertising on the site and also giving us pretty spot-on clothing advice.
“Which one, Rubes, the orange or the pink?” Emilie twirled in a short tangerine dress and then held the bright pink version up under her chin.
“Both colors look stunning against your skin, but I imagine Q would prefer the orange,” Sebastian commented, returning his gaze to his cell phone before Emilie even noticed him looking.
“Oh. Well. Thanks.” She shot him a confused glance, her eyebrows furrowed.
Neither of us had been able to maintain any hostility in the face of his pleasant companionship, but it felt weird. Like we were waiting for Dr. Jekyll to make a sudden appearance. It did kind of ruin the afternoon, as far as girl time goes, but it made things pretty interesting, too.
I paid for my bag of new clothes and a fresh pair of sunglasses, then went outside to wait in the warm sunshine while Emilie did the same. Sebastian sat on a bench to the right of the doors, looking oddly at home on a shopping trip. His pressed khakis and white button-down, open at the collar, gave him an almost normal appearance.
Then again, they did say that serial killers looked just like everyone else.
“I can feel you looking at me as though I’m about to murder you,” he said, putting away his phone before squinting up at me.
I shrugged, refusing to feel badly about judging him. It wasn’t as though the evidence against him didn’t make it okay. “I think you’d probably hire someone else to do it.”
He grinned. It looked more like an animal baring its teeth than anything else. “You’re a smart girl, Ruby, no matter what people say.”
“And what do they say?”
“That you’re white trash. Your white trash parents stumbled blindly into multi-million-dollar fortunes but didn’t have the breeding necessary to turn out a daughter who doesn’t curse like a sailor, fuck without standards, and harbor fanciful ideas about an equally trashy Hollywood stardom.” He recited the litany of complaints against my family and me as though they interested him as little as the ants marching through the crack in the sidewalk tripping on weeds.
“Don’t sugarcoat it on my account,” I muttered.
“You don’t want things sugarcoated. Like I said, whether or not those things are true, you’re smart. The website is quite brilliant, and you could turn it into a moneymaker for yourself, if you wanted to. I could help.”
“Help how?”
“You’ve obviously reached the end of your interest. I could take over the business end for you. For a percentage, of course.”
“Of course. Why should I trust you? You’ll probably hack into everyone’s e-mails and start splashing details all over the place. I’m not a total bitch, Sebastian.”
He held up his hands. “I won’t take over any content, and you don’t even have to give me admin access. I’m bored, okay? Daddy Rowland won’t let me do anything at the company, and I need some experience for my business project portfolio.”
“I’ll think about it, okay?”
“Very well.” He glanced over as Emilie stepped onto the sidewalk, her hands filled with shopping bags. “I’ve said my piece, and now I’ll leave you girls to the rest of your day.”
Sebastian held out a hand toward his half-brother’s girlfriend. “I’m returning to the house. Would you like me to take your bags?”
Emilie opened her mouth as though to say something rude, then snapped it shut. Huge sunglasses hid her eyes, making it hard to read her thoughts, but she handed over the bags.
“Thank you,” she managed.
Sebastian nodded, then slid into the backseat of his car, held open by a silent driver. A moment later he was gone. Emilie and I both stared after him for a moment before I shook the strange encounter loose. “That was weird. I am going to think about it, though. I never considered this could be a way for me to make some cash.”
“You don’t need to make cash.”
“I know. But isn’t being wealthy all about not missing opportunities when they come along?”
She hooked her elbow through mine. “Let’s just go get some froyo and talk about something other than Sebastian. He still creeps me out, even though he hasn’t put a toe out of line since Quinn told him he could stay at the beach house.”
“Something like….”
“Cole Stuart’s mysteriously unsatisfactory nethers, of course.”
Chapter Eleven
“Jesus, Rubes, you look fucking hot.”
Emilie and Quinn stood in the doorway to our room, looking like they’d stepped out of a Rolex ad. Probably one being filmed in Monte Carlo. Her cherry red dress clung to every curve until it hit her waist, where it flared to show off her short but gorgeous legs, and her black hair spiraled down her back in a mass of inky waves. Quinn wore another pinstriped suit and black tie, a bright red pocket square the only alteration to the ensemble he’d worn last time I’d seen him.
“I agree, in an I’m-madly-in-love-with-your-friend kind of way,” Quinn added.
Tonight’s mixer with Lambda Phi at The Wharf was semi-formal, but yeesh. My own vintage inspired gold and ivory number paled—literally—in comparison. It didn’t matter. Emilie and I had spent the better part of freshman year arguing over who was hotter, only to settle on the fact that we both were.
“Merci. So do you two. Fucking stunning.”
“Why, thank you.” Quinn winked. “You don’t think this suit makes my butt look big?”
Emilie swatted his arm and giggled. “You’ll have to forgive him. And me. We had some drinks in the car. Are you ready?”
I nodded and we all headed downstairs and out front, where Quinn’s car idled at the curb. Other girls poured from the house, full of giggles from their own pre-party drinks, and the porch and parking lot filled with overdressed sorority girls excited about an evening with Lambda Phi. Several other hired cars waited to be filled with my sisters, and a few girls had gone with cabs. We liked to party, but no one wanted to be called in front of a DE Standards board for drinking and driving, so we were all pretty careful.
Two freshmen had to stay home and man the Sober Sister line, just in case. They’d probably
be busy tonight. Sober Sister was a good idea, except for when the drunks you picked up demanded a pit stop at some terrible late-night taco joint and then spent the ten-minute ride home making masks out of their flour tortillas.
It happened far more often than I would have believed.
The drive out to The Wharf took less than twenty minutes, long enough for the three of us to kill three-fourths of a bottle of excellent rye. My head buzzed pleasantly by the time Quinn’s driver helped us from the back seat. We navigated the wooden planks leading around to the back of the restaurant, to the private screened-in patio and deck that Cole and I had reserved for the event.
Tables dotted the patio, waist high and without chairs, with menus littering the tops. Twinkly white Christmas lights hung on the wooden beams of the ceiling and bright lanterns decorated the deck and the path onto the beach. A local band played in the corner and laughter rang in the air while pretty waitresses in short shorts and screen-printed T-shirts brought alcohol as fast as their too-tanned legs could carry them.
“Would you girls like something to drink?” Quinn raised an eyebrow.
Emilie and I both nodded in response, and he hurried off to do her bidding. It wasn’t for me, I knew, but I didn’t mind taking advantage of Em’s boyfriend if he was fetching drinks. She turned to say something to me but stopped, her eyes turning up in a smile at whatever she spied over my shoulder.
“Ruby Cotton, you look more beautiful every time I see you.” Cole’s rough brogue warmed my bare shoulders as it spilled into my ears. He stepped to my side, extending a hand to Emilie. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”
“Emilie Swanson.”
“Ah, of course. You are even lovelier than Quinn led me to believe.”
She giggled. “Then I’ll have to talk to him about that.”
“Talk to me about what?” Quinn handed out drinks, then slipped an arm around Emilie, tugging her close and burying his nose in her hair for a moment.
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